What Lies at the End
by Daerunia
Summary: Chrom's ragtag squad of warriors have become accustomed to finding lost soldiers from some far flung future that claim to be their children. It's an occurrence that doesn't even raise an eyebrow; not until one optimistic lad falls from above with no memories. He only knows one thing for sure: Chrom's tactician is his mother. She also only knows one fact: she is very much... not.
1. I: Hey, Mother!

**What Lies at the End **

Chapter One:

Hey, Mother!

* * *

"What the hell are you standing there for?!"

A thin boy wrapped in a black robe that seemed to swallow him took a singular step back on his right foot, feeling the crumbling ground of the ruins beneath his feet give away. The hunkering undead Risen moved closer, its broken jaw agape and its axe dragging the ground. Noxious gas swirled from between the monster's broken teeth, causing the boy to cling ever tighter to the book clutched at his chest as he staggered another half step backwards.

That book held magical spells in its pages, and he certainly knew how to use them, but fear left him completely frozen. His right foot hit nothing, and for a terrifying moment he pinwheeled his arms and reeled on his heels in an attempt to catch himself. One glance over his shoulder told him that he had reached the edge of the platform; only darkness was below. He could only imagine what was at the bottom. Spikes? Unlikely. Water? Maybe. He might survive then. At least until the other Risen smelled him and ate the flesh off of his bones as he screamed towards the heavens. Or maybe it was just more stone down there, and he would die instantly on impact.

Why was he even thinking about this?!

Ylisse's last remaining princess watched from afar, waving her arms and shouting desperately from across the cracked ravine. They were words that the boy either couldn't hear or was too stunned to heed. Lissa had no way of knowing it was the latter. "Someone! Sumia, Cordelia, JUST SOMEONE GET OVER TO THAT KID ALREADY!" She screeched, finally grabbing the attention of her elder brother.

Chrom only shook his head, gritting his teeth as he kicked the last Risen on their side into the chasm. "We didn't account for the reinforcements!" His words were pained, croaked in anger as he pulled himself upright using the hilt of his haggard Falchion. Blood snaked down the side of his face from an unlucky spear strike that he was still recovering from, one that had send him reeling. "The pegasi are overextended, there's no way they can-…"

Across the way, the Risen raised its axe high and swung it down on the defenseless boy, eliciting a scream from Lissa as she shielded her eyes behind the width of her own axe for a moment. She dared to look, half expecting to see the boy's head split clean in half, but a third figure had joined the fray.

In a flash of steel and blue, Chrom's daughter had thrown herself between the enemy and its victim, catching the corner of the downward swing in the center guard of her own Parallel Falchion. The boy had thrown himself to the side to keep from tumbling backwards and now sat upright, watching in stunned silence as she broke the enemy's stance with a powerful strike.

"Stand back!" She barked, and so he did, scrambling out of the way and as far from the edge as he could in seconds. By the time he turned around to look back, the Risen was already crumpled at the girl's feet.

"Thank the gods, Luci! Now get back over here!" Lissa called, nearly bouncing in place. "We need to get out of here yesterday! More of those things are going to show up if we don't split!"

"W-what's she saying?" The blond asked, turning to Lucina. His face was smeared with tears and mud, and the screaming woman across the way really wasn't reassuring him that he was safe.

Lucina let out a long, low breath, centering herself as she sheathed her weapon. A gentle smile touched her lips as she opened her eyes, taking a step towards the boy. "It's all going to be alright now. We will be safe once we are with Aunt Lissa and Father, but mind your step and walk in front of me."

That didn't answer his question. He did not argue though, there was certainly no place for that right now. Instead he turned his focus to the narrow, crumbling remains of the stairs that were his only way forwards. He looked back at the ledge he had just nearly fallen from with fear in his eyes, but a pat on the shoulder from his savior brought him back into focus.

"Go on now, you're safe with me. You're going to be just fine," she reassured him. Shakily he pulled in a breath and puffed his cheeks out, full on sprinting across the busted stairs. His boots kept tangling in his robes, but he seemed to be under the impression that if he ran fast enough, his feet wouldn't touch the ground and then he wouldn't be able to fall. Not brilliant to go running over crumbling and slippery stone, Lucina noted, carefully following behind him with her eyes scouring for loose bits of debris.

Lissa had taken to healing Chrom's cuts as Lucina and the boy finally made their way safely over to them. Thankfully, it seemed the rest of the squadron had managed to regroup with little incident as well.

"Where's Magnolia? She deserves a smack on the head with my staff! Just bring a tiny group, my royal butt! We were overwhelmed the minute that everyone spread out!" Lissa was fuming. "I brought my axe and magic would have been so much safer!"

The prince winced, letting out a quiet laugh. "At ease, Lissa. She's never steered us wrong before. Let's give her the benefit of the doubt. Nobody was hurt, after all."

"Chrom! Nobody except you!" The princess whined, tying his bandages a bit too tight. "Arguably the only one of us that ISN'T expendable! And shame on you for going on a treasure hunt in the first place!"

As the noble family began to bicker, a snowy pegasus touched down just outside the ruins. Upon its back was her rider, Cordelia. Laying longways across the beast's neck was a very dead looking mess of pinkish hair and shredded black robes, Ylisse's finest amnesiac tactician. Cordelia gently placed a hand on the other woman's back, trying to shake her back into consciousness. Much to her shock and horror, the other woman began to slide forward and tumbled to the ground headfirst.

"Ah-OW!"

Cordelia leapt gracefully off her mount and knelt beside her ally, dragging her upright by the mess of wrinkled clothing that she was buried in. "Oh gods, Magnolia! What is the matter with you? We flew only from one end of the ruins to the other!"

"…gonna be sick…" Magnolia uttered weakly, pushing back a tangle of curls from her face. She slllooowwwly started to stand up, but only got as far as her knees before she tumbled over again, laying in the grass as she fought to catch her breath and mind.

"It was either ride or walk back over those crumbling ruins, and I was not about to watch you fall to your death like the clumsy fool that you are." Cordelia scolded, carefully tucking her lance away in the holster on her mount's saddle. The Pegasus turned to give Cordelia a side stare with one wise eye; it was an expression that Cordelia seemed to understand well. She relinquished a sigh, patting the creature on her cheek. "I know exactly what you mean, girl."

Magnolia managed to pull herself upright just as the rest of the group left the ruins behind, not a one of them glancing back. They all seemed to be shaken save for Miriel the unflappable and Sumia, who had also had the luxury of flying over the unsteady ground.

"You're well then, friend?" Chrom asked, dropping a heavy hand on her shoulder.

"Aye…" She responded meekly, sounding none to sure of herself. The sight of his cuts and scrapes left a bitter, guilty taste in her mouth that she wore vividly on her face. Masking her emotions was near impossible given the range of facial expressions Magnolia was known to dish out. "I had no intention of walking you right into danger."

"It goes to show that one mustn't place all of their faith in the abilities of another. Theories, while scientific and sound, still remain theory until they are proven as fact. It is a wonder your foresight hasn't failed us beforehand. Mathematically, we were due for unaccounted misfortune." Miriel chirped, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose. One lens seemed to be cracked, but she wore a sarcastic half-smile, still energized from the thrill of successful battle.

Chrom blinked, his brow knitted in confusion. "Uh, what?"

Lucina spoke up, translating for her father. "Miss Miriel means that you are only asking for trouble by charging into any plan that Magnolia comes up with without really looking over it for yourself. We can only get lucky being headstrong so many times before it backfires."

"Ah, well..." Chrom had no argument. He had become accustomed to taking his tactician's word as law. For the most part, the entirety of his army didn't question her tactics, but Chrom was certainly due for a rude awakening eventually.

"Magnolia?" The blond boy spoke up, stepping out from behind Lucina. He wiped his sleeve over his dirty face, squinting at the tactician. "That's my-... wait, Mother? Is it you?"

All eyes turned to the boy and then to the flabbergasted woman.

"Pardon? Who are you?" She uttered, holding her Elwind tome to her chest as if it would shield her from the delusional child's accusation.

"Oh, I didn't even recognize you with long hair! I've been looking everywhere for you, Mother!" The lad dropped his tome and trotted up to her, arms open to wrap them around her. She stepped back as he came forwards, looking to the group for help. Chrom stepped in quickly, catching the boy by the collar before he could latch around her and squeeze her to death.

"But, that's…" Lissa started to speak up but quickly fell silent, dropping her hand to her side. She stole a glance at Magnolia but the other woman didn't meet her eye. Her hazel gaze was instead locked on the child who was glaring up at Chrom with the utmost offense.

"I take it you hail from the same future as Lucina. Give up your name, lad."

"It's Morgan. Why are you staring at me like that, Mother? Tell this guy that…" The boy suddenly fell silent, clutching at his skull with a groan of pain. "-…something isn't right. Something about you looks…"

Chrom spoke as if he had to break news like this all the time. Incredulously, it was his fourth time dealing with such a situation. Lucina being the first, of course, and then he learned he had, in fact, _two_ children. And after that came Laurent, who turned the tide on Chrom and went into a lengthy diatribe explaining the science of Outrealms and time travel magic. Every bit of it went over Chrom's head, but he knew upon meeting Kjelle that this would get easier and more commonplace with time. And right behind that came Brady, who claimed to be Maribelle's son. That particular one had been the first time Chrom had cause to disbelieve the wild claims; they were nothing alike. "Easy now, don't overthink it. She looks younger, yes? This is the past."

"Perhaps we can handle this at camp as opposed to out in the open for all of our enemies to see." Lucina spoke up, silencing the boy before he could argue. "Don't worry, we will explain everything. It's a lot to comprehend but you're going to be just fine. Morgan, was it? I am Lucina."

"Lucina?" Morgan stared at her outstretched hand, then tentatively shook it. A goofy smile found its way to his face. "So I can come with you then, Mother?"

Magnolia said nothing, her eyes still sizing up the precious albeit fidgety and filthy teen accusing her of spawning him.

"Of course you can," Chrom said with finality. "The son of my closest friend is an instant ally of mine."

* * *

A/N: Well, this is a short start, but I wanted to get this prologue down before I tossed it away in the bin of plots that I have that never come to fruition. Give me thoughts, feedback, etc.


	2. II: Denial

** What Lies at the End**

**Chapter 2: Denial**

* * *

Morgan squeezed his eyes shut as Tharja sauntered a circle around him, flicking a lock of hair at the back of his neck with a long, black nail as she did so. One moment, she had been behind him. The next, her lips were right against his ear, hissing in a low, threatening voice. He winced as her cold breath touched his skin.

The red-haired Pegasus woman had flown him to their camp ahead of the group that moved on foot and made sure that he was warm, cozy, and in good company, as she called it. Morgan had a different idea of what "good company" meant. It was scary enough to be surrounded by new faces, but even moreso when not all of those faces were friendly.

"My, my, but look at you. Another little amnesiac among us, isn't that a funny coincidence? I would be lying if I said that I always had the best of intentions, but that story really seems too familiar to be true. Such a scheme makes me look good by comparison." She dug a tight grip into his shoulder, her voice becoming little more than a growl. "Who sent you here? Did you really think that we would be so foolish as to believe your little tale?"

"I… uh, no, really! I don't know what you're talking about!" he squeezed his eyes shut and tensed his shoulders, hoping that when he opened his eyes, she would have vanished.

The two of them both jumped as Maribelle's son piped up loudly from behind them, a kettle of tea in one hand. "Alright, that's enough, lady. Get on! Scat, cat! Go cast your crazy line in some other fool's fishin' hole!" He waved his free hand at Tharja, a threatening scowl set into his fearsome features.

Tharja took a half step away from Morgan and placed a hand on one hip. A troublesome smirk stretched across her pallid face. "Surely you aren't speaking to me like that. I can't be the only one around here who knows better than to trust any old fool who flits into our camp. Old fool, young fool… either way, the lot of you should be far more wary. Sweet, sweet little Brady. Your mommy-dearest would be ever so upset should something nasty happen to her little boy…"

"Slink on back to the shadows already!" Brady snapped. He turned his attention to Morgan, who flinched and raised his arms to defend himself. "What the-… I just defended you, why the hell are you flinchin'?! Come on, that's just mean…"

"S-sorry…" What had he expected? Brady was easily over six feet tall and every inch as terrifying as Tharja. His face was about as friendly as an angry bear. Morgan slowly lowered his arms and carefully sat back down in front of the fire, letting out a pent up breath of air that he had been holding onto. "This group is a lot to handle. I knew that, of course. Mother used to talk about Chrom and his overbearing retainer. And then there was the flirty archer, the creepy sorceress, the hot dragon lady…"

"Congrats, you just met the creepy sorceress. Trust me, it's a lot to handle. Livin' in this world will make you want to go runnin' back to wherever you came from. But you know what? This time I've got with my Ma, I wouldn't trade it for anything, war or no war. You'll feel that way before long. Things kinda feel normal again. You know your own family."

Morgan shifted more towards Brady, his furrowed brow smoothing into a vibrant, curious stare. "What is my mother like?"

Brady shook his head. "Uh, wouldn't you know better than me? I ain't been here more than a week, give or take."

"Well, she hasn't really given me much of a chance to talk to her. I don't think she thinks that I'm her son, but I know my own mother! I mean, you know your own mother, right? There's no mistaking your own mom!" Morgan huffed, sounding more and more upset with each passing word.

"Easy, kiddo. I've heard 'round the medical tent that Boss can't have kids because of some injury, so it's probably a lot to take in. But hey, medicine ain't exact when you're in the middle of war, ya know? Accidents can-… I mean, not accidents. I meant anything can happen."

If the little blond was deterred in the slightest at being called an accident, he didn't show it. "Then shouldn't she be even MORE excited to meet me? I'm her miracle baby!" Morgan bounced to his feet, eyes blazing. "What do I have to do to convince her that I'm her son? Shouldn't she just, like, feel it? In her bosom?!"

"I don't know whatsit about your Ma's bosom, kid. Are you sure that Boss is yer mom?"

"My mom is my mom! You just said that you knew your mom was your mom, so why wouldn't I know that my mom is my mom!?"

"Yikes, easy! Sheesh! I heard that the rest of the crew is just now makin' it back, so why don't you go and bite someone else's head off?"

"What? They're back?" Morgan's bright eyes flicked towards the entrance of the camp; indeed, the same entourage that had rescued him were arriving. "Oh! Thank you, Brady! Let's talk again soon!"

"I'll pass. And thanks fer what?" Before Brady could get his snarky rejoinder out, Morgan was off, stumbling over his own feet.

* * *

"**MILORD CHROM!**"

The stern bellow of Chrom's retainer's voice rang out as the group approached their makeshift camp, causing the slow moving squadron of infantry soldiers to halt and exchange worried glances. Frederick had been heard and not yet seen, but that tone was enough to send chills up the spines of both Magnolia and Chrom.

Lissa turned her wide eyes up at the tactician, snickering from behind her axe. "Say, whose idea was this excursion again? I wonder which of you is going to get the more severe thrashing. The idiot who got hurt or the genius mastermind behind it all?"

Chrom seemed genuinely confused. "Don't be silly. Magnolia's lecture will be far worse than mine."

"It's okay. After Fred tears you in half, I'll patch you right back up," Lissa chimed, trotting off to her tent before Magnolia had a chance to retaliate. No sooner has she left than Frederick arrived, fussing over Chrom immediately. After a most polite bow, of course.

"What in blazes were you doing? I heard from Sumia and Cordelia that you nearly met your end on some gods-forsaken treasure hunt. Why was I not informed?"

"At ease, Frederick…" Chrom responded weakly, nursing his busted elbow. Magnolia shot the prince a look of disbelief; was he playing up his injury to get out of trouble? Unbelievable!

"F-forgive me, Sir Chrom. Here, retire your battle clothes to me and I'll get the laundry taken care of immediately."

"No need, old friend. I'll catch my breath and then see to the new arrival."

"At your word, sir." Frederick offered Chrom a quick salute and then turned his brown eyes on Magnolia with a glare so daunting that the hair on the back of her neck rose in fear.

"W-what is that look for?!" She recoiled, turning her eyes downwards as if making eye contact would cause him to charge. "That's a new face…"

"I received a letter in my tent written in YOUR script that said Sir Chrom wanted to take a small crew hunting. It read that I should stay behind because you would be with him. Had I known what devious nonsense you had planned, I would have never allowed such a thing to come to pass. What on earth were you searching for that was so important that you felt the need to betray my trust? Was it so easy to earn that you threw it away without hesitation? Chrom is the future of Ylisse. He is not merely your traveling companion, your _friend_!"

"I know. And I apologize. I didn't take the time to calculate the risks."

"Are you willing to carry the responsibility of the death of the next exalt? Are you prepared to take the blame and stand before our people? How would you even begin to explain yourself, Magnolia! You may even be branded as a traitor to the people who have come to trust you! Well? Was it worth it?"

"I-I…" She shook her head, clearing her throat for fear that it would crack. "No, it wasn't. I accept responsibility, but-…"

"But WHAT! What excuse could you possibly offer?"

"Nothing. It doesn't matter!" She said quickly, nearly before he executed his question.

"I see." Frederick gave her a wry smile, his brow softening in what might have almost been compassion. "You must know that I am well aware your little journey must have been milord Chrom's scheme. I am only teasing."

She let out a long breath as the tension drained from her shoulders. "You're a sadist, Frederick."

"It was merely a touch of vengeance for lying. And what with your lack of training recently—do not think that I have not noticed—I thought it might do your body good to sweat it out." His tone swiftly changed back to militant. "Now, it has come to my attention that the fliers brought back a new potential recruit to camp. He's a short, stocky fellow, a young teen. I have yet to acess his battle prowess but-…"

"Ah, yes, the boy. I-…" She was interrupted by a shout that caused the heads of many soldiers to turn.

"YOU LISTEN HERE, MOTHER!"

Both Frederick and Magnolia swiftly turned as Morgan ran up to them, his face flushed with emotion. Magnolia took half a step back out of fear that he would try to hug her again.

"At ease, young man!" Frederick quickly stepped in his path, halting him with a glare. Not to be deterred, Morgan stumbled backwards and turned giant, watery eyes towards Magnolia, trying to hatch a plot to get around the boulder of a captain that now blockaded him.

"Mother, you have to know it's me. Look at me! Can't you just… can't you just tell?" His voice cracked into a weak squeak. "What about you, Sir Frederick, can't you!?" He glowered up at Frederick, who snappily turned his gaze away and stood at attention. "Hey, don't ignore me!"

"You should go check on Chrom." Magnolia stated quietly. Not one to miss a beat, Frederick quickly took his leave and headed back towards the ring of tents and caravans of the camp. She watched him leave until he was far enough out of earshot, and then finally looked Morgan in the eye, her hands balled into fists.

She had meant to intimidate him, meant to convey to the boy that she was tired of his charade. Looking into his features caught her off guard in a way she hadn't expected, however. Though her jaw was still set and her eyes were still narrowed, she found it hard to speak without feeling guilt taint her tone.

"I do not know who you are or where you come from, Morgan. But I am not your mother."

"How can you look me in the eyes and say that?" He sniffled. His outburst of emotion from before still left his round face bright pink with emotion, but now his eyes, too, were growing red as they brimmed with tears. "I've never wanted for anything, I've never had to struggle or endure any hardship. A-and then, just like that…"

Magnolia felt a painful lump present itself in her throat as the boy broke down into tears and buried his face in his sleeves.

"You have no idea what it feels like to hurt for something and not be able to know what you hurt for! I've been so alone since I showed up here. I didn't ask for this, but it's the way it is. The only thing I know is that I'm finally with you again." He fumbled with the collar of his shirt and lifted a delicate chain from around his neck, holding it out to her. "See? This is your wedding ring. The gemstone was lost and you gave me this one when father bought you a new one."

Magnolia took it in her palm and looked it over. She didn't have an eye for jewelry, but it certainly was to her taste; simple, rugged, rose gold. She only shook her head and handed it back to him. "Morgan, I don't have a husband. I… listen. I cannot deny your appearance. And I cannot deny that stranger things have happened in this world, but-…"

Her argument began to unravel before her. Clearly Morgan could sense it as well. He mopped his face and put the necklace back around his neck, tucking it away under his shirt. "I know. It's really unbelievable for me, too. I can't let myself think about that, or I'll just end up breaking down. At the end of the world, when you're facing down something that you don't understand, you have to be your own friend. You have to trust in your own wisdom and your own truth. You taught me that. Self preservation!" he smiled a winsome smile that revealed a dimple in his right cheek.

Magnolia's hand absently brushed against her own cheek, hating the fact that she undeniably had the very same dimple on her own face. "Perhaps you are a cousin, a nephew, even an ancestor…"

"You know what you know and I know what I know."

"Self preservation…" She repeated with a sour tone.

"That's right."

"…You're an awfully smart kid."

"I get it from my mother."

They locked eyes again as Magnolia studied his face for any traces of lying, and Morgan in turn tried his hardest to express his sincerity. He quickly crumpled under her gaze, eyes overflowing with tears rather quickly. Hesitantly, she started to open her arms in an offering of comfort, and he rushed into them, collapsing his weight against her as he sobbed in relief. The tactician placed her palm at the back of his head and allowed him to cry into her robes. "I was so scared for so long…"

"You're safe now," she promised without thinking. She hadn't been aware that she, too, had been crying until she heard it in her own voice.

* * *

**A/N: Why are these chapters so short? I dunno. Don't ask me. I just work here. I'm the butler. **


	3. III: Calm Contemplation

**III:****Calm Contemplation**

* * *

Night had fallen on the encampment. With the end of the excursion, the mishap, the moon brought forth calm contemplation and a moment of silence in which to unpack the events of the day. Ylisse's tactician found herself in the medical tent on a cot that she was beginning to know all too well.

"You must know that medical treatment whilst on the road is always an uncertainty, but you also know your own body more than anyone else. Although I may find it unlikely, that doesn't rule out the possibility that you could bear a biological child. Even so, your condition hasn't improved, nor has it deteriorated."

Magnolia had heard the same thing before, but even still the words made her eyes fall downwards so that Libra could not see them brim with tears. Politely, as if to not offend her dignity by watching her cry with his sharp eyes, he turned his back to her and busied himself with arranging medical supplies.

"Regardless, thank you." The tactician brushed her heavy sleeve across her face quickly. Her voice was strong and brisk as always.

"Have you spoken to the goddess about such concerns? I must also remind you that I am no true doctor. I may be able to do more than wield a staff with these hands, but some things are better left to true professionals and the heavens."

"I don't know very much about the gods. That isn't to say that I don't believe they exist, but I guess I'd never really wondered if…" she trailed off, worried that she might offend him. "I'm sorry, maybe I sound ignorant. But I don't know what gods require from servants. I haven't studied up much on religion. That isn't to say I'm opposed to it, but do the gods really speak to us? And if I wanted to hear from one, would I ask them nicely, or would I just take everyday things and consider them to be blessings? How does it work?"

"Hm." Libra gave an amused chuckle. "Sometimes I wonder the same thing."

"What?" Her brown eyes shot to his face, mouth wide in shock. "But you're a man of the gods!"

He sat back down and merely gave a shrug. It seemed so strange and silly of a gesture coming from a man as formal and steadfast as Libra. "Magnolia, it is possible to have faith for the wrong reasons. Some pious men are guilty and blemished with sin, only calling upon the heavens for mercy from their suffering and not from a desire to serve and serve alone. Oftentimes, prayer is about respite. A moment of peace."

"A moment of peace…" she repeated, a frown creasing her brow.

"We may never know why others pray. That is the way of things. However, if such peace were possible, I'd wish it for you. Many eyes see you as a voice of reason, perhaps a beacon of confidence. Eyes that are used to darkness often have a much easier time seeing through the masks of others, though."

"What exactly are you saying?" She asked, looking a tad annoyed. "You believe I'm not myself? I have an army of people who understand me and care for me. Why would I sabotage that by wearing some kind of facade? I am the same person with others as I am when I'm alone."

"Are you saying that to convince me or yourself?" Libra caught his own words and quickly took them back. "...Forgive me. I spoke out of line." He stonily responded, clearing his throat. "Perhaps I am guilty of projecting." He started to rise from his chair and leave the tent, but cold fingers quickly wrapped around his wrist to stop him.

"No, I'm the one who is sorry. You're right." She released his arm and cast her eyes away again. "May I confess something to you? Is listening to confession a part of your priesthood?"

Libra sat back down, offering her a grim smile. "Many do not believe I have any business acting in the stead of a Father. However, as your friend, I can certainly listen."

Seconds ticked by as she battled with her words. When she finally did speak, she didn't dare meet his eyes. "I… I do not always make the right choices. I lie to all of you every time I bark commands with confidence. And sometimes I…" Magnolia trailed off, pulling her knees to her chest as she toyed with the hem of the white sheet that she sat upon. "Sometimes I… I weigh one person's life over another in battle. I think of who would be best suited for tasks based on how much it would impact Chrom if we were to have to bury that person."

"Such is the mentality of a general, Magnolia. It's perfectly reasonable-..."

"No, no it isn't!" She yelped suddenly, leaning over the edge of the medical cot. Libra was taken aback, startled by her outburst. "Don't you understand? I was no general when Chrom found me. I don't have a military background! It isn't logical for someone like me to think that way! It's… it's disgusting! They trust me without knowing that I've had to reduce them to less than human in order to give commands!"

Silence fell over the pair as Libra absorbed her words, a pleasant half smile stuck to his fair face.

"Such is the way of war." An honest yet frigid response. "It brings forth the most depraved truths of man. Some lives are more valuable than others. It falls to a leader to determine who will be worth having around to rebuild in the aftermath while others give their life in service. It is humanity, not nature, that forces us to believe that everyone is equal. Sir Chrom, for instance. It would be foolish for anyone to believe their life is worth more than Sir Chrom's."

Magnolia hated that some part of her knew, without a doubt, that he was correct. "It may fall to a leader, but I didn't ask to lead."

"And yet you do so without complaint. Without showing any flicker of doubt or reservation."

"I despise it." She shook her head. "I can't believe I'm saying it out loud, but I hate the feeling. And what if Morgan really is my child? Am I supposed to accept that he's a commoner and let him take risks in battle? Or as a parent, would I throw all of that reason away and protect my child over someone else's child? Wouldn't they want to do the same thing?"

"I know you seek comfort, but I have no answers for you. I can't imagine the thought of leaving a loved one's fate in someone else's hands. I'm sorry that I cannot offer you more."

"That's alright." She forced a laugh. Humiliation began to sink in. What was she thinking? The last thing she wanted was to sow distrust amongst her peers, and here she was telling Libra that she was losing her grip in the face of death like a frightened child.

Libra opened his mouth and then closed it, toiling with his words. He wanted to get up, to leave, but a much more grave matter pressed at his heart, urging him to speak. "May I confess something to you, then?"

"Yes, of course," she sighed, wiping at her face once more. "It's the least I could do. You listened to me."

"I do not partake in eavesdropping, but I did overhear-..." he stopped speaking and released a sigh. "No, it is not my place."

"What? What is it?" She urged.

"Truly, it isn't. I'm sorry. Once again I've overstepped my boundaries. It would only cause undue stress when you are so clearly tormented as it is. Rest easy, Magnolia. I'm glad you are in good health."

* * *

"What are you staring at, young man?"

Morgan's bright eyes had been stealing glances at Frederick from the other side of the campfire, idly studying his movements as he stitched a torn collar on one of Chrom's shirts.

"Er, nothing, sir. I'm just reading my book," Morgan lied swiftly. He lifted the heavy tome in his lap as an example.

"How are you reading when the binding of the book is to the campfire? There is no light behind you, therefore the pages should be too dark to read," Frederick uttered matter of factly.

"Sharp as a knife," Morgan laughed nervously. "I just… um… are you angry? You seem kind of upset."

"Nonsense. This is just my face, I suppose."

"Hey, can I come over there?" Morgan asked, though he was already on his feet. He moved to stand over Frederick and motioned to the empty space on the log beside him. "Can I sit?"

"I would rather you stay where you are, but I suppose it would be easier to keep an eye on you from nearby. Sit."

Morgan gulped as he tentatively sat down. When Frederick did not look up or continue the conversation, Morgan took it upon himself to do just that. He studied the man's posture and the concentration on his face before speaking.

"You're a noble, right? You're dressed really well. Maybe not like Virion, but…"

"I am." Frederick responded, though he didn't bother to elaborate. When he realized that wide eyes were watching him and waiting for him to speak, he lowered his needle and thread with a sigh. "My house has served Milord Chrom's for decades."

"So you've known him since he was a kid? And you were an adult?"

"Indeed."

"...So you're a lot older than most of the older fathers here, huh?"

"I am not sure what you're getting at."

Morgan shrank back a bit, picking up on the warning in Frederick's tone. "Er, well, it's just… I… well, I know."

"You know? And what is it that you know?" Frederick finally turned his head to glare at the boy.

"A-about you."

"Rest assured that you do not know the first thing about me, child."

"No, I mean…" Morgan kicked his boots at the dirt, staring into the blazing fire. "I know about you and Mother."

"No, you do not." Frederick snapped suddenly.

This time, Morgan's temper flared. "Why are you lying? Lissa told me! Don't get mad, it's not like I'm going to tell anyone! But even if it is a secret, that doesn't mean you have to pretend that I'm not your son. What good are secrets anyways?"

Frederick stood up suddenly, shaking the wrinkles out of Chrom's shirt with an unreadable expression locked onto his stern face. He draped the clothing over his arm and then delivered a gaze so cold to Morgan that the boy felt insignificant, tiny in comparison.

"Allow me to correct you. Milady Lucina does not recognize me. Therefore, in the future you hail from, "Frederick the Wary" is long gone, likely fallen on the field of battle in Milord's service. With that information in mind, watch your tongue and your rumors before you-..." he cut himself short, deeming it not to be important.

"Before I hurt you?" Morgan finished quietly, wincing under the expectation that the man was going to shout at him.

To Morgan's shock, Frederick cleared his throat and gave a singular nod. "Yes. Please do not speak any more of this nonsense to anyone."

"But wait, please!" Morgan scrambled to his feet and tugged on Frederick's elbow before he could walk away. "This conversation isn't over! Maybe you had me before you died, or maybe, just maybe, just like Lucina, we can stop you from dying now that we know, and-..." he let out a half-sob as Frederick pulled his arm free. "We can talk to Mother about this and she can keep you-..."

"Enough!" Frederick barked, turning on the boy with ferocity in his eyes. "Is it not enough for me to learn that I've failed in the service of milord? Now I'm expected to spend this time mulling over the circumstance of my death? Were you raised with no respect nor tact?"

"S-sorry, I didn't… didn't really think about it that way…"

Frederick's voice had returned to its low, polite gait. "Some of us are not afforded daydreams. You'd do well to remember that."

Morgan watched him leave with anger, hurt, and guilt twisting his young face into an upset grimace. "Well, I hope you're not my father, because you're an awful, mean man!" Of course he was only brave enough to say this once Frederick was far out of earshot. At least he had the last word, right?

* * *

a/n: Drama! Conversation! Libra time, because I like to spotlight my favorite characters! Again, I'm trapped to mobile, so this is all being written, uploaded, and formatted via phone. Forgive typos but please give me the heads up on them. Surely you all knew that it killed me to go two whole chapters without some back and forth drabble and here we are, changing up the tone for the evening. I love yo faces, Philly DeFranco style. Review. Spread love.


	4. IV: Hunted

**What Lies At The End**

**Chapter** **IV: Hunted**

* * *

_hi, it's been a while but I've been busy and haven't had time to write anything. I'm surprised at the support this story has gained! I considered it a story that I didn't put too much effort into compared to my others, but all of the follows make me need to work harder and make it something worth following! I hope everyone is staying safe. As the world returns to normal, please continue to wash your hands, love your loved ones, and never trust that the people around you are as cautious as you are. Stay healthy!_

* * *

Quiet raindrops muffled the sound of Lucina's footsteps as she moved between the trees, careful not to let her heels slip on the damp moss. Her blue eyes were alight with something akin to glee as the pitter pattering of water dropped onto her leather hood, tap tap tap.

The scent of fallen leaves and fresh soil set her at ease. She was no good with her bow, but she still often volunteered to hunt anyways.

There was also something exciting in the knowledge that when she returned to the barracks or the court or even the camp, she would be returning to her father. Even though she almost always came back empty handed, Lucina was delighted every time she returned simply on that sentiment alone. The feeling of waking up before everyone else and knowing that her friends and family were peacefully sleeping made the solitude something that she savored, if only for the sensation of fulfillment once she came back to a lively and bustling camp. Seeing her father scorching loaves of bread in an attempt to make toast, her mother pulling Lucina's hair in an attempt to sweetly braid it, her peers, her friends…

The sound of shuffling leaves coaxed her from this moment of delight, this sweet daydream. A smile crept up upon her features. She knew that she would catch nothing, but simply being able to take time to enjoy herself was enough. Lucina took a deep breath and drew her bow, hearing the string creak in a most satisfying way as she did so. She leveled her arrow towards the woods and let out the breath that she was holding as she prepared to let loose an arrow.

Her nimble fingers let the arrow fly just as her keen eyes realized that her prey was not, in fact, a woodland critter. Not that she could just turn back time and put the arrow back in her bow.

She was aiming right for Morgan, who was none the wiser as he stood with his back to her, chin raised up at the water dripping off of the leafy treetops. Lucina opened her mouth to scream a warning but the arrow had already collided with his stocky figure. Horror flooded her as she watched the lad topple over and yelp out in shock and pain. That cry was enough to jerk her out of her stupor and send her rushing to his side in a panic.

"Morgan!" Lucina knelt beside him and started to pull him upright. Recalling what she knew about first aid, she hesitated, her hands floating over him as she fought the urge to try and move him. "Oh Gods, what have I done?! Where are you hurt?!"

"N-no, don't touch me!" He whimpered, rolling in the leaves to turn his back towards her and protect his wounds.

"Morgan, please! It was an accident, you have to let me see!" Lucina scolded. She scrambled to her feet, ran around to his other side, and tried to get him to move his arms and show his wound without screaming at him. It was ineffective; they were both shouting. Through all of the chattering and panicked crying, Lucina nor Morgan had heard another figure stomping through the underbrush to the rescue.

"What's all the hootin' and hollerin' going on?!" Brady shouted as he ran closer. His narrow eyes caught sight of Lucina on the ground and immediately thought that she was hurt, but his eyes widened in horror as he realized that she was not the victim and that Morgan was laying in the underbrush, rolling slowly back and forth and groaning in pain. "Aw, shit! What did you do to the tyke?!" The basket that he had been collecting mushrooms in was quickly abandoned as he darted over and dropped down on his knees, hands lingering in the air as he looked for a wound to lay his healing powers upon. "Where the hell is the wound?!"

"I don't know, he won't be still and let me see it!" Lucina's voice was a horrified pant. She had seen death. She had been still in the face of war. But she had never accidentally almost taken a comrade's life. Try as she might to remain calm, all she could think about was Magnolia's tears, her father shunning her, and the entire forces having to hold a funeral that never needed to happen because she wasn't being careful enough. Without thinking, she blurted: "we've got to save his life before he bleeds to death!"

Brady's jaw dropped and he snapped his head towards Lucina as if it were on a swivel. "Bleeds to death? He's gonna bleed to death? What did you do?!"

* * *

Magnolia let out a grunt of effort as she hauled a heavy wooden box up onto the table in front of her. The ruckus caused Frederick to turn away from the three enormous pots that he was sprinkling spices into. An eyebrow vanished beneath his bangs as he spied a gold-trimmed sleeve hanging over the side of the container. Chrom's good shirt. Gods, he prayed she hadn't ruined it.

"I need you to check my work," she sighed, resting her folded arms on the side of the box. "I've been working hard all morning to get it right."

"To get what right?" He responded, though he feared he knew the answer.

"Laundry. You seemed annoyed at me, so I thought I would take over some of your chores to give you a break," the tactician explained.

A deep frown cut Frederick's sharp features as he shook his head. "You thought I was annoyed with you? I am not. I apologize if you were under that impression."

She blinked up at him, giving him a most pitiful look from beneath her lashes. "Every morning for almost two years you've kissed my forehead and ruffled my hair in the morning. You didn't do that today." Magnolia inwardly felt a surge of pride as he turned pink and performed an about-face back towards the cooking pots. The corners of her mouth turned up into a smile at how easily he was flustered. "Why didn't you? That's why I thought you were mad."

"I suppose I had a lot on my mind. I would imagine that you do, as well."

"Because of the kid," it was phrased as a question but delivered as an answer. "...Right. I really don't think there is an easy way to talk about it, but perhaps being blunt is the best approach."

"Careful deliverance is not your forte," he grumbled. "Neither is tact, I suppose."

Magnolia placed her hands on her hips as her mouth dropped open in surprise. "Oh, you're one to talk! Just so you know, if you sugarcoat an insult it's still an insult, Sir Frederick. So what if I say what I'm thinking, at least I'm not condescending about it!"

He let out a scoff through his nose that might have been a laugh. "Just because you're thinking about something doesn't mean that it has to be discussed while it's at the forefront of your mind. There is a time and place for everything. You're too quick to bring up problems before they have yet to become problems."

"Fine, have it your way. I shall keep my mouth shut and only discuss this at a time that's more appropriate."

Frederick let out a sigh of relief and picked up a wooden spoon to stir the stew before it began to boil. Magnolia watched with an unreadable expression plastered to her face as a droplet of broth popped out of the pot and landed on the sleeve of Frederick's pressed white shirt. Something about the way he acknowledged it with pained silence and then began furiously scrubbing at the stain with a rag made her chest ache.

She folded her arms over her chest and stood up straight. "I love you, Frederick."

His brow furrowed further at her suddenly blurting something like that out. It was unlike her and, quite frankly, a tad embarrassing. His eyes swept around the tent to make sure that no other soldiers had their head poked inside before responding. "Acknowledged. And... likewise, of course."

"Great! So then we need to talk about-..."

He interrupted her swiftly with a warning tone. "Magnolia." Ah, her tender comment had been a ploy, a tactic, to trap him into opening up. Very sneaky, but he was always one step ahead. Frederick finally stepped away from the trio of pots and pointed the spoon in her face like a teacher wielding a ruler. "You may have amnesia, but you certainly didn't forget what you just said mere seconds ago. This is not the time nor the place."

"Oh, you need a taste tester?" She remarked to the spoon, opening her mouth and sticking out her tongue.

"Do not be so glib."

The tactician heaved a sigh and shook her head. "Fine, I'll drop it. I apologize. I just feel like two days ago everything was completely under my control and now… there are just a lot of questions that have no answers."

Try as he might, Frederick couldn't restrain the urge to lecture her. "When you become facetious every time you're nervous, your enemies and allies alike will be able to discern immediately when you are nervous. Instead of cowering in silence, you open your mouth. And perhaps you could stand to loosen your grip on the army. When you believe you can account for everything, it only becomes that much more devastating when you cannot."

A nerve jumped in her eyebrow. "So you don't want to talk about what bothers you, but you are still perfectly comfortable talking down to me like I am one of your trainees?"

"To be perfectly technical, you are one of my trainees, even still. Strong of mind and weak of body. A slug, if you will."

A small smile creased her face. "Slugs aren't smart, though. You must think yourself a master of comedy, but just know that I have a far sharper wit than you."

"I suppose Naga felt you deserved at least one talent," he remarked. He waited quietly as she fumbled for a wittier response; a sassier rejoinder.

Wordlessly, she fumed. How was he so quick with insults? A tacfical retreat was her best option. "Damn it, Frederick. You have to let me win one every now and then."

"My apologies," he offered, not without a touch of smugness to his voice. His brown eyes trailed idly to the crate of clothing. "What have you done to that silk shirt?"

"Huh?" It took her a second to realize that he was talking about the laundry. "What do you mean? It's clean, and it smells great. I thought you'd be proud."

He held the shirt up by the shoulders with only the tips of his fingers, as if touching it would infect him with the scourge. "You scrubbed this far too hard. See the way that there are lighter patches? This garment is a delicate eggshell white and you've stripped the color right off it!"

"What are you on about?" It was a perfectly clean white shirt, pressed and wrinkle free. "Frederick, there's nothing wrong with that shirt at all."

"Leave all of that clothing there and go help Cordelia repair weapons instead. Please… do not try your hand at laundry without instruction."

She unleashed a sigh and drew her palm across the length of her face. Typical. Was it worth giving one more push to get him to talk? She knew that she at least had to try.

Before she could open her mouth, he shook out the shirt and put it back down. "Anyways, there is plenty to be done. There is hardly time to waste on conversation. I need to focus."

Perhaps he was dodging the conversation, but only because he dreaded the idea of telling her of his untimely demise. How was he even supposed to explain that he knew about that? He greatly feared what would happen to the army with its tactician thinking that her other half, who also happened to be the group's strongest frontline force, would need to be protected to keep the grim future from coming to pass. That conversation would be long and difficult. It was the only challenge that Frederick found himself backing down from.

Magnolia looked irritated and concerned, but managed to finally keep her mouth shut despite the myriad of questions she had stirring in her mind. It was her job, day in and day out, to find solutions to problems before the problems could even present themselves. Now a true concern was here, long before she had an answer, and her closest confidant was shutting her out.

When her tactics became too aggressive, Frederick was there to reign her in. It had been that way since the beginning, long before she had ever seen him as anything more than Chrom's overbearing retainer. He had always questioned her, always second-guessed her, and always doubted her. It was that wary eye and alternate perspective that allowed her talent to shine in the first place.

It was impossible for her to put into words how much it ached to know that something was hurting him and that he felt that it wasn't her business. How could she fix it if he wouldn't even let her speak on it?

Feeling brave, she placed a hand over her aching heart and opened her mouth to give it one more go. "Frederick, whatever it is-..."

"Enough." He warned in a tone that was stern but kind. Without another word he ruffled the top of her head, pressed his lips against her forehead firmly, and then pushed open the flap of the tent with the soup spoon. "Go."

The tactician finally obliged. She dragged her feet as she passed him. "By the way, you don't have to work so hard to season the pot of rabbit stew. Only Stahl eats rabbit stew. I once saw Stahl dig a potato right out of the ground and eat it."

Frederick cleared his throat in an effort to withhold a laugh, though not a centimeter of his face creased whatsoever. Magnolia offered him a half-smile and nudged her way out of the cooking tent and back into the camp.

Shepherds were scurrying to and fro, some jogging for their morning exercise, some fighting to get their chores done so that they could get to the bath first. There was something comforting in the busy hustle of a morning in camp, but it only made her long for the solitude and convenience of the capital. Lavish food, comfortable beds, and a full library were the comforts she missed the most.

Despite being some clown that had woken up in a field wearing dirty robes, she had become quite high maintenance.

* * *

"Just stop wigglin' all around like a worm!"

"Brady, you're going to hurt him!"

"Aaahhh! Someone help! He's trying to kill meee!"

The mortal struggle for Morgan's life was finally coming to a close as Brady, the only one of the three who knew the first thing about medical science, formed the hypothesis that Morgan was not bleeding out. Brady grabbed a dagger out of his boot and was trying to cut through the buttons on Morgan's coat. Lucina was pulling on Brady's hair to try and make him stop, certain that he had lost whatever sanity remained in his walnut-sized hick brain.

Morgan's cloak finally tore open with a loud rip and revealed that his pale chest was completely unmarred. Lucina's arrow had grazed his rips and was simply stuck inside his cloak. Somehow she had managed to launch it right under his arm.

"You little dumb shit! You're perfectly fine!" Brady growled, yanking Morgan upright by the shoulders. "It didn't even nick ya!"

"Aah! AAAAAH!" Morgan stopped screaming and patted at his skin as if feeling for a wound. His vacant face was pallid and sweaty with shock. "...Wait, what?"

"Wait, what?" Lucina parroted as she released her grip on Brady's hair. "I did not hit him?"

"Nah, you didn't hit him. Stupid kid just freaked out, that's all."

"B-but!" Morgan's mouth flapped as he tried to catch his breath. "I… I felt something! I really thought-...!"

"Yeah, yeah! You had a close call and got spooked, so forget about it! Yer fine! Damn idiot made me drop my mushrooms for nothin'!" Brady got up and brushed wet leaves off of his pants, swiping his face on his sleeve as he turned away from the both of them.

"Is he crying…?" Morgan whispered to Lucina.

She took Brady's place at his side and double checked to make sure that he hadn't been impaled. Indeed, with the exception of pale handprints on his skin from all of the poking and prodding, there wasn't a single mark.

"He, er, takes his mushroom picking seriously?" Lucina responded mutely. She shrugged out of her light coat and wrapped it around Morgan's shoulders, giving him a reassuring pat.

"Hey, I'll help you pick some new ones!" Morgan chimed.

"It ain't got nothin' to do with mushrooms! I'm just damn relieved you ain't hurt!" Brady growled, cursing the both of them. "Come on, you think I care more about mushrooms than a pal in the army? Heartless pricks! What kind of a monster do you think I am?"

Lucina and Morgan's eyes locked for a moment. Morgan's face broke into a smile as Lucina only continued to frown at him, her face unreadable.

"What are you grinning for?" She asked.

"He's kind of adorable, isn't he?"

"You should keep that to yourself lest you want to upset him even more. Here." The princess stood upright and offered her palm to the younger teen. "Let's get you on your feet and back to camp."

"Right!" He chirped. Morgan took Lucina's hand and pulled himself up onto his feet. His poor cloak was torn to shreds and wet from rolling in the underbrush. With a shiver he pulled Lucina's coat tighter around himself and looked up towards the treetops. "I don't remember which way the camp was."

"It isn't far."

Movement flashed in the corner of her eye and she did a double take. A dark figure in a cloak not unlike Morgan's stood between the trees. It was just far enough away that she couldn't see the features in the shadow of their hood. The fact that someone had been standing there watching them for Naga knows how long made her suddenly feel sick to her stomach.

"Hey, not to sound rude or anything, but I think you owe me an apology for almost killing me." Morgan was jabbering on to hear himself talk. He began to pick up the abandoned mushrooms by the handfuls, completely oblivious to Lucina's sudden alert stance.

She flicked her eyes to Morgan and shushed him, but when she looked back into the woods, the figure had vanished completely.

"What's wrong with you, Luci? He's right! You damn near sent him to an early grave. Least you can do is apologize!" Brady barked.

"What?" Lucina's blue eyes fluttered in confusion as she turned her attention back to them. Was she seeing things? She had to be. A shadow of a tree, perhaps. Was it worth it to bring it up to either of these two? Considering that they both seemed wholly inept at battling, perhaps it was best not to frighten them.

Brady unleashed a grumble of frustration. "I said you owe the kid an apology for sniping him like that!"

In the aftermath of the ruckus, the fact that she had shot Morgan had somehow slipped her mind. "Oh Gods, you're right. Morgan, I know an apology doesn't make up for that close call, but I am truly, truly sorry!"

Morgan turned his soulful eyes on Lucina. "You can make it up to me by teaching me how to use a sword like you do. That sounds fair to me!"

"Well, I suppose I can. It's the least I can do, honestly."

"You know, flippin' and rollin' ain't really the most conductive stance for sword combat. Just sayin', maybe a technique more like Lon'qu or Gregor's is more realistic than those fancy pants Holy Blood types."

Morgan shook his head from side to side vigorously. "Nope. I want to do flying sword cartwheels or nothing at all!"

Brady scoffed, folding his arms over his chest. "Come on, you can't even handle being grazed by an arrow and now you wanna kill people with style?"

"I don't want to kill anyone, but if I have to I might as well look cool while I do it!" He swung a pretend sword through the air and let out a battle scream that made Brady drop his basket again. "HiyaaaAAAA!" A flurry of birds lighted from the treetops as Morgan's shout echoed.

"You tryin' to get us swarmed by bears?!" Brady shouted. For some reason this question got Morgan tittering, and before long he was full on laughing. He folded his arms over his stomach as he doubled over in peals of giggles.

"I don't think bears move in swarms, Brady," Lucina explained.

"Just one bear is a swarm enough for me! The hell are you laughin' for?!"

Morgan struggled to catch his breath as he wiped tears from his eyes. "Phew. I'm just so glad not to be dead."

Lucina turned to her right and pretended to adjust her bowstring to keep the pair of them from seeing the small smile that had crept up on her face. The two reminded her of a pair of court jesters and she couldn't help but laugh, despite the circumstance.

Amongst the ruckus, none of them had noticed the dark figure watching them from the trees. Fire burned from within the dark hollows of a beak-like mask, shining with the anticipation of claiming new prey.


End file.
